Better Dead than Alive
by Kishboo
Summary: Previously The Spy doesn't fall far from the Farm. Zach POV in LYKY. Zach, a fifteen year old kid arrived at Blackthrone in a storm of glory. As the year progress he must decide between two lifestyles and two people.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

My name is Zach Goode and I am the son of one of the most powerful person on the planet. I am a highly trained operative that does not have to

follow any rules or laws in any country. I am apart of the most exclusive club known as the Circle of Caven. I know too many languages to count but

I have never done a single piece of homework . I have both looks and money and could cover the USA's debt with cash. My mom loves me with

every fiber in her being. I am 16 and have lost count the amount of girls I have seduced. My name is Zachary Dean Goode and I _should_ love my life.

But don't.


	2. Chapter 2

1.

Guns had always come easy to me; just like every other weapon. Hand me a bow and arrow and I could duplicate the Indians. Hand me a sword—the Romans would pale in comparison. Anything would do, I could kill anyone with anything. And maybe that was what worried me.

When I lifted the AK-47 and took aim at the range 100 feet away, I really didn't feel the rebuff; I really didn't feel anything anymore.

The sound of the bullet hitting the target reached me in less than a second and I jogged to see where I hit. Bull's-eye. Of course, there was never really any doubt.

"Zach, sweetheart, time for the meeting." Called a voice from the house.

"Okay," I yelled back. Setting the safety, I tossed the gun on the ground, hoping to be back in ten.

I slowly walked back to the house. It was non-discreet. Brown wood encased the metal under layer making it blend in with the surrounding woods. The two stories cast a long shadow as the sun met the treetops. The shades were closed, giving off the secluded, supremacist attitude that the non-existent neighbors always talked about.

I didn't like these meetings, the way every stared at me. Thinking I was just as bad—that I was just like her.

"Davis, update." She barked to the man sitting halfway down our overly long kitchen table.

"He's in." Another reason I found no enjoyment out of these meetings was because the only subject we talked about was Joe Solomon.

"The girl?" And Cameron Morgan. Can't forget her. Some guys talk about multiple girls to other guy friends. I talk about one girl…with my mom.

"Secure." Davis replied automatically.

"The notebook?" Oh, and the notebook. The three objects—Cameron, Joe, and some dumb notebook—seemed connected in some unidentifiable way.

"Alpha 2 has not confirmed its location but they are almost positive it is in the school. So, for the sake of the meeting, it's secure too."

"Good, make sure that they are have no doubts. Last time they were almost positive we ended up in the east Andes hunting mountain goats." I mostly just sit in silence, tuning anything out. These meetings don't really concern me, but I'm still required to go. "We should know what he found out by this time next week."

I heard my mom give the sound of approval; a throaty grunt that is two pitches away from her "I'm-about-to-kill-someone" noise. This one normally signals the end of a meeting, so I got up. However, another subject was brought to the table.

"Zach, I think its time that your education, lets say, gets a little formal training." I felt the spark of interest that only a mission could bring.

"What?" I said.

"Blackthrone is accepting new applications."

"Blackthrone?" I tried to remember some stories I heard about them. All I remembered was a basic background. It was a military ran, funded by secret grants from the government. It was started in the Cold War for precautionary reserves. The alumni's were highly skilled and very diverse. Other than that, my memory was blank. "Mom isn't that like…I don't know…military?"

"Not really. I just think your education has a need that I can't teach you." I knew she was being sarcastic; she was the best teacher in my line of work, for academic and extracurricular. So if this wasn't a physical or studious reason, than it could only deal with my personality.

"Oh, when do I start," The spark automatically died. Because for one, it's easy to become excited about a mission when you think it's going to included India, an assassin and really good food. However, when the mission included a bunch of smelly boys, schoolwork, and mean teachers—not so much. And for reason number two–my personality has been a pain in my mothers butt since I discovered what was required of me three years ago. So if she was trying to change it, than it would.

"Well the start of school starts this week, and I want you to get acclimated and stuff, so I thought we would leave tomorrow."

"Sweet. How many kids are in my class?" I had acted excited for the most part; pretend that I could learn something from a school that taught me algebra and chemistry. Yet I was tired of acting all the time, plus people were staring at me again.

"I think about 30, including you. Remember Zach the, the boys know who I am."

This surprised me. Normally the Circle of Caven acted behind a screen of fronts. Our contacts in politics would cover our tracks and keep the government thinking we were a small time terrorist group. But truthfully, we were quite large. Large enough to create a couple wars, kill a couple important people like Hitler and Tsar of Russia, along with causing the Great Depression, so people underestimate us, but we appreciate it. Even welcome it. So when my mother said the boys knew, I was confused. "How!"

"We fund their school, they know what we are."

"But…?" I was confused. If the Circle fund's the school that meant the government had a thread on us, which isn't good.

My mom guessed the direction of my thoughts, "Under a cover name of course. But for the most part they know that I supply many of the equipments and stuff."

"So they don't know about the Circle?" I was anxious.

"Yes, they do. Zach, we recruit there. Many boys want to be apart of this. Most of the boys idolize us. They just know how to keep their mouths shut."

"Oh." My sprits dropped lower. I was going into a new school where a group of boys already know all about me. This mission was proving the worst ever.

My mom walked towards me and touched my arm, "Honey, they don't know about you. Just me." She looked into my eyes—a reflection of hers—and repeated, "Just me."

I smiled and said, "yeah." People were quiet, but I could tell they were anxious. It was pretty obvious that I had an aversion to the family business. Problem was, I was good. Really good, and you just don't turn away from something that you excel in. I turned and started to walk out the door.

"Zach, don't forget your cover." My mom handed me a manila folder. It was plain, and it was small, but I could feel every eye in the room watch it pass from my mom to my hands. Everyone wanted to peak, to see what I'll be like, to see what I would be doing. But me, I just put it by my legs and walked out. "I love you," She called as I shut the door.

My mother was a beautiful woman. She had height that would rival a supermodel, and skin that would put one to shame. Her skin tone had an airbrush look to it. Her looks however had nothing on her personality; dominate, confident, and commanding. Walking into a room drew every eye and her voice would turn every ear. No one was immune to her powers. Even me.

So that was why I was wary of her, why I didn't dare trust her. She was one of the best mother's possible. She knew my thoughts and my emotions while I was thinking of them. She knew what I was going to say and how I was going to react. She was everything a mother could be. But I didn't know if it was from the fabled "mother's instinct" or the acting she was taught from Gallagher.

I went back to the range, but I wasn't in the mood to practice anymore. So, I did the only thing I could think of—read my cover.


	3. Chapter 3

2

ZACH GOODE.

Grade: Sophomore

Age: 15

School Blackthrone detention Facility

Height: 5' 7"

Eye Color: Brown

Hair Color: Brown

Interests: Normal

Personality: Cocky, Confident, smart, athletic with a touch of romance

Mission: Earn the Trust of The boys, and the Teachers, Excel.

Everything was pretty much the same. I admit I was confident; I did have brown hair and eyes that matched. I was 5 foot and 7 inches (and growing!), but I knew those weren't the things that mattered. It was the mission. That was the thing she wanted me to know.

"Honey, you'll be fine." My mother came to stand beside me, continuing the conversation we started inside. She put her hands on my shoulders, and I felt myself recoil; fighting it, I made myself sigh in relief.

"I know. I'm just not used to going to school."

"Honey, school will be easy. You know you'll do great." Her eyes glanced towards the left breaking my stare; number one on the list that singles when someone was lying slash hiding something, but my mom is too good to let me know when she is doing either of those actions. Which means she wanted me to ask her what was wrong. And I fell for it. "There's something else."

"Its just that…this is an important mission." Which translates into no screw-ups. For some reason, that got me on edge.

"What, you don't think I can handle some boys and teachers that are dumber than screws?"

My mom rose to the challenge. It was one thing to talk to her like you were below her, totally another thing to speak like equals. "I'm not saying that. It's just you're young, inexperienced…" She said trying to calm me down, but did the opposite.

"Inexperienced! I have been on more missions with you than any of this guys in there." I pointed angrily towards the cabin. And don't even say I'm young, I apparently wasn't young when I was back with Lucy. I had to break the news, I had to cover it up."

"That was different. You have to learn, and that was the best way. I did what I had to do." She gave me a look that told me I was reaching the danger area, but I disregarded it and continued.

"Yeah, now I have to get some teachers and boys to trust me like there is no tomorrow. Not like I haven't done that before." Sarcasm dripped off of every word. My mom was angry now. But not the type of anger that turns her face red and makes her hands ball into fist. It was the type of anger that told you that if you didn't back up, someone was going to end up in the hospital. "Now Zach, don't you even think you can do this. If there were anyone else I would send I would. I don't want you to…"

"To what, Mom! To screw up? To rob? Steal? Murder? What don't you want me to do, Mom? Then my face stung. I didn't jerk my hands to my face, my eyes didn't sting with tears, I just shut up and stood still.

"You are not going to get that tone with me. I know that you have this attitude about you and I have just about enough of it." It sounded like a lecture a normal mom would give a normal kid. But normal mom's don't slap their kids. "You will let me finish my thought and then you will respond in a respectful way."

"Yes ma'am." She was no longer my mother, but the leader of the Circle of Caven.

"Now, if there was someone your age that had your abilities I would send them. I much rather have you here, but I don't have that yet. So I'm sending you. And I don't want you to screw up."

"Yes ma'am."

"Good, now go get packed."

I felt my eye throbbing, black and blue no doubt. I quickly had the despairing thought of showing up to school with a black eye. But I pushed the pain out of my nerve endings and swallowed hard. Then asked my mom a question that would probably get me a second bruise.

"Mom," pause. I saw her turn, her eyes had turn to rocks. "What does the Circle want with that journal."

"Zach, I am not doing this." she turned wary.

"I know, its just…I need to know if it concerns my mission." I didn't keep eye contact. I knew her anger was still boiling.

"It doesn't. Joe has it covered."

"Right." I said, turning my back on her and waiting until I heard her footsteps back towards the house. I stayed out for another hour. Changing from the 47 to a blowgun.

Finally, as the sun slipped below the trees I walked back in. My room was on the second story and it was small. I could barely fit a bed and a dresser, but I didn't mind. It wasn't like I had a whole bunch of stuff or anything. My room was painted a dark brown, the dresser made to match. Everything was picked up and nothing was on the floor. There was no family pictures or calendars, just a made bed and closed drawers.

I got my suitcase and dumped everything in it. It took less than ten minutes. But by eight I was ready to leave. I got up and sat on my bed. I really didn't have anything to do. So consequently I was bored. I got up and went outside.

It was dark already. Brief moonlight showed through the gaps, but we didn't pick this house because of the scenery. So I guess to have secrecy you have to have darkness too. I stopped and let my eyes adjust; pretty soon I could see where I was going. The trees loomed up in front of me. And I soon found the path that led to the cliffs.  
>It took a half hour, but I didn't mind. I felt the vast space beneath me. It was so easy to imagine that I could just walk off and not get hurt. I would be able to fly, to be released of all sense of gravity, all sense of responsibility. But I knew that if I did act on those wishes, someone else would be subjected to things no kid my age should be subjected to.<p>

So I took a deep breath and started to walk back, staying there for less than a minute.


	4. Chapter 4

3

"Zach, get up, we have to go." Okay, so when it comes to my personal sleep routine, lets just say I'm hard to sway. So I just continued lying there and tried to get comfortable again, but I heard my mom's impatient words and decided not to push her motherly love.

Rubbing my eyes, I was rudely reminded of my fight yesterday. I jumped up and looked in the mirror. My eye looked like it had been stung by a bee and then decorated by a two-year old that had gotten into her mothers eye shadow. Sighing, I started to look around for a shirt.

I was ready by nine and was in the car by fifteen after. My mom got in by nine thirty. And for the next three hours we rode in silence. I looked out the window and watched as the forest turned into a city and back again. I tried to catch some shuteye, but it didn't do much.

At twelve we reached the school. There weren't a lot of cars, just a lot of buses. And I knew right then, that maybe my eye would help and despite of who gave it to me, I was happy that they did. I slipped on my new cover and started to state my new personality.

"Follow my lead," I told her as the cover locked in place

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"God, why are you always on my back! Can't you just let me be." I screamed at her as I got out and slammed the door. I went to the back and pounded on the glass. "Open it!" When she didn't right away, I continued my tyrant. "What? Do you not want me not to have clothes anymore?" I yelled while waiting for my mom to unlock it.

My mom—blessed with a quick brain—understood swiftly and followed, "Well sorry you pack like a girl. I told your father that you should have a limit to only one suitcase." She spat at me.

I held up my little extra bag that contained things that are better left unsaid, "What this? Who's the one that brought seventeen bags with two carry on's to their honeymoon?" I screamed at her. "God, I hate you!' I turned and slammed the back, a little harder than necessary considering I broke the back windshield.

"You brat, look what you did." She pointed towards the windshield. "Just wait until I tell your father about this." She yelled at me, sounding close to tears. I just continued to carry my duffel and the little bag to the door. "You are going to have to pay for this you little monster. Be glad you have a whole semester to get a job because this is going to cost like 100 bucks." My mom yelled again, obviously trying to get my attention.

"Yeah. Do you think that they allow military kids to get a job? You are such a ditz sometimes. It's no wonder why you haven't figured out about the affair yet. You're too thickheaded to realize Dad has been out of town the same time his little secretary is for the last two years!" I whipped around.

With my mom apparently crying and yelling profanities at me, and while I gave her the finger, I made the entrance I hoped for.

Walking into the front door, I automatically felt the teachers tense. The faculty at Blackthrone had never ever quite had a student like me, and they knew it. I was the son of the most powerful women in the world. Yes, my mother was more powerful than the mafia, than the president, than the United Nations. They knew that I knew more than what they offered and I were not going to lie down and bend to their rules. I was independent and I was going to show them.

A man came up behind me and I could tell he was the headmaster. He was about 6 feet 5 inches, with such short hair that a color couldn't be identified. His skin was pale, making his ice blue eyes striking in comparison. Thin eyebrows arched over his eyes that were the same indiscreet color of his hair. His features were distinctively angular, straight nose, pointed chins with prominent cheekbones. Blending in was his talent and he was good. But when you're me, you're better.

"Hello, you must be Mrs. Goode's son."

I knew he would know my mother, but still I was hoping that maybe he missed the memo. But no one misses a memo by my mom.

That was the one thing I hated the most was the way everyone automatically saw the similarity between her and me. How they automatically thought the similarity went deeper than skin deep. So I took a breath and responded with, "Yes."

"Ohhh, we _are_ going to have fun this year." He replied eyeing me up a down. Though his voice portrayed confidence his eyes were a different manner. This time they were nervous and scared. I know that most of my life, that's how everyone will look at me once they figure out my last name

I grabbed my stuff and did some quick calculations. I had to gain the trust of both the teachers and the boys. This is harder than you think. Normally, you can only get the trust of one or the other. Since brown-nosing the teachers made the boys hate you. And if the teachers hate you, that meant the boys love you. So I had a tight line to walk. I decided to go with the boys at the moment, and turned my back on him without a further comment.

I knew no one had ever dared disrespect the headmaster before, but I just did. Therefore, talk ensured.

"Do you see that, he just turned his back," pause, "on Sergeant Backrish." Or, "He's going to get whipped the first day. Just wait," And you can't forget the bets. " I say in two hours he'll be out of here," Oh yeah, this year will be _quite_ fun.

The Blackthrone academy was not like a regular school, all I had to do was look outside and see the barbed wire fences and the natural barriers, and know that this school was not to be visited.

After about two minutes of wandering, I discovered where the bedrooms were. Except bedrooms were the wrong word—they were more like barracks. Two rows of fifteen beds each lined the wall about nine feet apart. A desk accompanied each unit on the left with a small light in the corner. Each desk came with three drawers for clothes and a smaller one for pencil and paper. It was pretty much standard military equipped.

When I walked in, I saw that it was a free for all—the school having more important things to do than hand out bed assignments. And the way things were going, I was going to get stuck with a peed on bed that some kid name Jonas wet in the eighth grade. And that was not going to happen.

So, I just stood there. Stood there and watched and tried not to look at the spot I think the guy did his business. I waited until I saw how the boys interacted, who was who, and what the order was. Cause no matter where you were, no matter what school, there was one guy that led it all. And his name was John.

Time to get to work, I thought. Getting up I went over to John's bed and slammed my stuff on it. Hard.

When he turned and saw that I was a good three inches shorter than him, he laughed. "I think that's yours, bud." He pointed mockingly to the previously mention peed-on bed. I looked him in the face and noticed his nose had been broken and he looked like he was hyped up on steroids—not to mention a guy that was never disagreed with.

Staring him straight in the eye, I couldn't help but think I can pick some pretty dang good fights, and said, "No, I'm good."

"No, you're not." He stretched to his full height, looking down on me. I just smirked and turned my back. I started to empty my suitcase and put my belonging away. This total disregard of his status was probably the best—or worst—thing I could have done.

"Now kid, I don't know who think you are but this is my bed." He told me, trying hard to control his temper.

"Oh, really. Well, I thought I could pick whatever bed I wanted. At least that's what the headmaster told me."

"I don't know what the Sergeant told you, but you are not sleeping in this bed." He picked up my stuff and threw it towards the pee bed. My toothbrush fell out. "Now, remove your stuff from my dresser and get lost."

I wiped an invisible speck of spit and got real close to him, "And if I don't?" I arched my eyebrows and smirked. This was fun, I turned and bent down to grab my toothbrush and toothpaste, "now I need a new toothbrush, thanks." As I was standing up, I felt the air move above me and knew his anger was moving through his fists now. I spun and parried his blow, in the same move I brought my other hand down to the inside of his elbow, crippling it. "Now, now," I said making sure my voice was steady but sarcastic, "Let's not fight, I want this bed. You can have that one." I pointed to my recently vacated spot. And turned my back, again.

Well, John was not going to sleep in a bed that was peed in, so again he tried to hit me. I knew what he was planning, so I ducked and let his momentum carry him, I turned and got him in the gut. He doubled up, and up my fist went, I heard the sickening crack of a broken jaw. But Johnny wasn't stopping. He clipped me on my shoulder. I was getting bored, so I turned with the blow, and Johnny took the bait. He went to hit the shoulder closest to him, but he was too slow. I was already bending my knees and jumping in the air, over his missed punch. My flip brought me right above him and I could see the look in his eyes. I felt a shot of guilt go through my stomach, but as quickly as it happened I was on top of him. His body was on the ground before someone had time to gasp. And his arms were in the dangerous position of being broken. "Go. To. The. Bed." I said the words slowly, making sure he understood me. When he didn't reply I pulled the arms harder.

"Okay, Okay, Okay" I loosened my grip and stoop up. Holding out my hand, I waited for him to take it. He didn't; I knew he wouldn't.

Turning, he went to get his stuff off his bed, but John was determined not to sleep in that bed. When he turned I more felt than heard him point to a guy named Sid and gesture to the bed. And I more than heard this being followed out. And without turning around, I said "Nuh-huh Johnny, you get the bed. Not Sid." And just like that, I knew John was no longer in charge.


End file.
